“It’s a place to lay our heads. That’s enough. We shall depart before first light and be gone before your people wake.” I guided my wife toward the stairs.
“What will you do when you catch him?” The girl’s question came soft, unsure and hesitant.
Nienna stilled, then turned her way. Brown hair fell loose over her shoulders, dragged forward to shield her neck. Her dress laced high, concealing skin inch by inch. Hazel eyes lifted to mine. Terror lingered there, banked but alive. Her body coiled tight, as if ready to flee.
“Lanie, that’s not our concern,” the old man muttered, gentle but firm. He glanced at me, his expression conflicted. He craved the answer as much as she did.
“Elohios will see justice done,” I said. “You have nothing more to fear from the Velli.”
“I pray to Nyryn.” Her eyes flashed bright, fierce and hot, as she stepped away from the man’s reach. She didn’t want mercy—she wanted vengeance.
“Radaan is yoked in servitude to Elohios.” The words fell flat. I had no desire to hurt her further, but I couldn’t rule from spite. I had to remain cool, levelheaded. The burden of the kingdom bore down on my shoulders. “Justice will be served.”
“Lanie, fetch something hot for our guests.” The old man guided her toward the back, his grip careful around her arms.
She managed a quick curve of her mouth before it fell away and she disappeared into the kitchen.
His throat moved with a swallow. “She means no harm, my king. She is young.”
“And wounded,” Nienna said, gaze fixed on the doorway. “More than just her body.”
“She suffered more than most.” His hands twisted together, and he cast a wary glance at Greaves. “But she lives. That is more than many can claim.”
“The traitor will be dealt with. And we will ensure Helmsgate receives aid.” I led Nienna up the stairs. Answers waited ahead, and I would not tear them from victims whose wounds still bled.
It was a cramped hall that funneled into an even smaller room. The ceiling sloped low, beams close enough to brush with my knuckles. A narrow bed pressed against one wall, mattress thin as parchment. Across from it sat a chipped washbasin with a pitcher beside it; the water inside caught the moonlight that filtered through threadbare curtains. Dust drifted in that pale beam. Greaves squeezed past me to inspect the window, boots scuffing the naked floorboards.
I kept Nienna close while he worked, his low hum circling the room as he checked the hinges and frame. He slipped by again to test the door, fingers pressing along the latch, shoulder leaning into the wood.
He had his rituals. It was his duty. I would be a poor friend to strip him of them.
“I’d just as soon risk dragon dung,” he muttered, curling his lip at the sparse accommodations. “This place wouldn’t withstand a mouse with a toothpick.”
“Dragon dung?” Nienna choked on a laugh, her body easing at last, melting into mine.
He wedged his boot against the door and braced his back against it, arms folding across his chest. “Under the sky—you can at leastseewhat hunts you.”
“Dragons do not defecate while airborne.” Her laughter brightened the room more than the lanterns downstairs. “It’s far too strenuous. They land and–”
“As fascinated as I am with the bowel movements of your beasts,” I cut in before she launched into a lecture, “I need Fallione. You saw the girl. I want answers.”
Greaves stilled, and that twinkle of mirth faded from his face as if snuffed out. “They fed off her.”
Nienna’s spine went rigid. “The bandages along her arms.”
“And legs.” His gaze locked with mine. Fury flickered there, sharp and mirroring my own.
My stomach tightened, sickened by the images my mind supplied.
“How long did Tallon stay?” she asked, voice thinned to a thread.
Long enough.
The truth lodged like a shard beneath my ribs. It stunned me how much ruin he could leave in such a short time. Careless. Wasteful. Velli were monsters driven by thirst and the need for power, always chasing the next surge of strength. Yet even knowing that, I’d never witnessed two of them carve such devastation so swiftly.
“A day,” I said. “Less. A night and some. I read the reports before we left Reem.”
A knock interrupted, soft but firm. Greaves tilted his head, palm settling on the hilt of his dagger as he listened.
